By This Blade's Edge
by Rick K'Tish
Summary: Most of the guardians didn't realize it, or had let it slip their minds, but Sandy had a brother. He wore a dark robe and carried a harvesting tool, and sometimes, when days got particularly bad, he asked sandy for help connecting those he carried with those they left behind. I wrote this with other people's characters.


_"Much talk. Talking will win you nothing. All the same, the woman goes with me to Hades' house. I go to take her now, and dedicate her with my sword, for all whose hair is cut in consecration by this blade's edge are devoted to the gods below."_

Most of the guardians didn't realize it, or had let it slip their minds, but Sandy had a brother. He wore a dark robe and carried a harvesting tool, and sometimes, when days got particularly bad, he asked sandy for help connecting those he carried with those they left behind.

This particular night, Sandy had already stood by his brother as the young man below them had collapsed to the ground in agony, his last conscious thought ringing through both of their minds:

 _I just wanted to go home..._

Gently, Sandy dusted the young man's head with sleep, freeing him from the pain he would otherwise be forced to experience. He offered to go and deliver the news to the family while his brother stood by until the disease had worked its way through enough to claim him. His brother merely nodded, crouching to the ground and carding a hand through the young man's hair, comforting him in his final moments.

Sandy flew as swiftly as his sand could manage to the home of the young woman and child who would be waiting forever. He began in the child's room, swiftly conjuring the dreams the man had held of lifting his daughter in the air and kissing her face. These dreams had been his, but now they would be hers, for as long as Sandy could make them come. The young man could never return home, but Sandy would bring him as close as possible.

Moving on to the young mother's room, he swiftly gathered every wish, every tear, every fragile thought and tender hope for this proud, strong woman that had laid in her husband's heart. These would be hers, as long as she lived. Her forehead, tense with the stresses of caring for a small child alone, smoothed slightly as the dream began, all warmth and tenderness from one who could no longer deliver them himself. Sandy lingered a while to watch, knowing the fear within her own heart could consume the dream if it was not kept light for this first night of remembrance. As pain and worry crept in at the corners of the dream, blackness touching his hands and elbows wrapped so gently around her illusory shoulders, Sandy sprinkled stronger wishes across the top, combatting the terrible dark until the dream ended.

These things had come from her husband's heart, from the very last hours of his thoughts and intent, and Sandy would help keep them alive even though he no longer was.

After the dreams had ended, he gently set two golden marigolds at each of the girls' windows before turning and swiftly flying back to his brother's side.

They had moved to an alleyway, the young man's musician's clothing being replaced by his false friend with the rags of a vagabond, dirt artistically streaking his face and hair as he was handled as quickly as possible before his breath had even stopped. Sandy's brother was leaning against one wall, watching the treachery taking place with arms folded, his tool waiting patiently by his side for the end of this tortured soul's suffering. Sandy joined him, standing respectfully with his hands clasped behind his back as together they witnessed every indignity performed. He only cheated once, seeing the smiling picture of the dead man fall from the pocket of his jacket as it was removed and placing it gently into that of his new vagrant's jacket when the murderer was looking the other way.

Together they stood as the thief took everything this poor man had ever loved and propped him against the opposite wall with a near-empty bottle placed in his hand. Together they watched the big man stride confidently from the alleyway, leaving the younger man to his slowly weakening spirit. Together they kept careful count of the seconds until the poison became too much for his system.

Finally, Sandy watched as his brother knelt and tenderly cupped one pale cheek, pulling the spirit slightly forward so his tool could reach what was needed. Gently, tenderly, Sandy's brother sliced through the place where the young man's spirit was bound to his neck; his heart; his lower back. Like a gardener gently removing badly angled sprigs on a still-growing tree, he separated this spirit from his still-growing body, letting his glowing spirit-self fall into his arms a little more with each cut. Finally, Death lifted the young man from his body entirely, cradling him like a child who has fallen asleep far from his bed. He shifted the new spirit gently in his arms and nodded his thanks to his brother for his help before making his way slowly, carefully to the bridge of marigold petals standing nearby and waiting. He would carry the young man across to his new life, watching the flesh fade from his bones the whole while, tenderly keeping him asleep until he could be delivered to the place he would call home now.

Sandy waved a gentle farewell to his brother before looking back at the cooling body still propped against the wall of the alley. Carefully he leaned down and touched the forehead of that poor soul, wishing his dream had been enough to smooth the pained wrinkles in that forehead before the time came for him to end. Instead, he now left a small mark on this man's remains, promising that someday, however long in the future, he would be returned home. Someone would find the truth, would seek out the sad bones of what this poor young man used to be, and they would deliver him to a place where he could be with his wife and daughter.

He lingered long enough to see the discovery of the body and the pauper's burial shortly thereafter.

Standing in the air above the long-faced priest and the tired gravedigger, Sandy made the same promise to himself he had made to the body that was now being covered unceremoniously with the same dirt that had been in the place where the young man's physical remains now resided.

This would not be his final resting place.

Many years later, a boy awoke from a dream in the middle of the afternoon after the busiest night of his life.

He knew how to start bringing his Papá Héctor home.

 **Hey look! Exactly one page long. That's pretty darn short for something that consumed my entire ability to brain in the middle of a work day in class.**

 **This is absolutely, totally, completely a first draft, written in about 30 minutes while I was supposed to be doing homework. It's kind-of-sort-of-a-little-bit-not-completely based on the Greek tradition that the god of Sleep and the god of Death, Hypnos and Thanatos, are twins, sons of the goddess of Night, Nyx.**

 **Will I ever finish it?**

 **...Maybe. I have some ideas inspired by the quote at the top, which I found after writing this in a rambling, tired state of petulance mixed with too many feels from watching Coco six times in one week (five times last Friday-Saturday, once split between Wednesday and today :P).**

 **But will I really ever finish it? Really?**

 **...Probably not. I got four hours of sleep last night, and I'm pretty sure it takes a LOT of sleep deprivation to come up with something this wigged out.**

 **Sorry for the awful writing, I'm extraordinarily out of it today.**

 **I'm working steadily on Gaki and Accidental, in case anyone's worried, but it'll still be a little bit until I'm ready to post updated and plot-ready chapters.**

 **Please review if you get the time!**

 **— Rick**


End file.
